So mourn we prisoners all;
You’ve paid the debt we all must pay,
Each sailor, great and small.
Your body on this barren moor,—
Your soul in Heaven doth rest,
Where Yankee sailors, one and all,
Hereafter will be blest.
The agent permitted us to put this stone up, and of the many thousands that lay indiscriminately mingled together upon this moor, this stone recorded the only syllable of the dead buried here. The life of these men is finely described in Holy Writ by the path of an arrow, which is immediately closed up and lost.
We received our monthly pay as usual, and nothing remarkable occurred during the remainder of the month; few persons arrived, but we had expectation of a great number. The weather was rainy and cold; the prisoners generally healthy; few died, but the prison was very much crowded, there being 1,500 in No. 4.
At the commencement of August, a draft of prisoners arrived, who had been recently captured on the coast of Europe, among whom were four men lately belonging to the private armed schooner Surprise, of Baltimore; these four men, on their first arrival at this depot, were put into close confinement in the cachot, there to remain on two-thirds allowance, without hammock or bed, sleeping on the stone floor, during their whole imprisonment. When the cause of their confinement was known, it seems it had grown out of the following circumstances: